The Path: Justice Arcana
by Syran Night
Summary: "...Personas are what you make of them. How you use yours is up to you." Ken lost his mother to a monster that only a few can see and no one believes him. So he must do what is just. He must kill his mother's killer, but is that justice? Detective Uzumaki is one of the few and he doesn't think so. Maybe he could lead the boy to justice's true form. P3/Naruto crossover. P3 pre-game


**AN: **Second fic here. This is completely different from the first. This is a true crossover and have characters from both series here. Instead of FF7 this is actually Persona. I love them both honestly. Anyway, enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **Do not own Naruto or Persona 3.

* * *

The yelling started to get louder. The kid outside his office was trying desperately to explain himself. He talked of distressed teens and shining horse monsters, and the Sergeant ignored him just like anyone else would. The boy was close to hysterics as he tried desperately to get anyone to understand him. What he saw was real, he said. His mom was murdered, he said. The Sergeant police officer just blamed it on post dramatic stress and left to handle real cases. He was sorry for the kid, of course. No one so young should have to deal with such bad karma, such bad luck. He cared, but the woman's death was an accident. There were other things he needed to handle, real perps to catch. He didn't have time to deal with make-believe monsters from a kid's imagination. The car was there, along with the charred remains of the person that was driving it. Even though there were no tire marks running through the broken home and no damage to the roof of the car from the house collapsing, it was what they had. The kid would just have to stick to that story. It was all they could give. The boy had to have known that _his_ story was too hard to swallow.

The Sergeant left when he was called, leaving the boy on his own. He didn't believe the child, but the new blonde detective sitting in his office just a room away did. He sat in his office and listened as the boy spoke. The way he described the teen's severe headache before a monster erupted out of him – it sounded so familiar. He knew of that pain. He knew because he experienced it himself. He believed because it happened to him. A horrid demon of nine-tails erupted from his skull. His head felt like it had split open, ripping to let out a beast. He knew the kid was telling the truth and he knew what it felt like to have no one believe him. He remembered telling his friends that a nine-tailed demon fox lived inside his head. He remembered telling them of the hour that rested silently between nights' end and days' beginning, of the black 'shadows' that lingered there and the coffins that engulfed them all except for him. He also remembered them laughing at him, telling him that he should stop eating ramen so late at night and calling what he saw nightmares. He knew better, though. Everything the boy described and everything the detective told his friends – all of it was just too real.

The boy stood there with rage and defeat emitting from his very pores. He screamed of his hatred towards the adults that didn't believe him. He vowed to find the person that killed his mother on his own. He didn't need them. That was when the detective finally stepped out of his office. The boy's attention quickly snapped toward the new arrival and the detective felt the scorn and ridicule as the other thoroughly inspected him.

The kid's round eyes took in his mop of golden blonde hair, bright blue eyes and slightly tanned skin. They narrowed as they glanced over the undone tie, blazer-free shoulders and bunched up sleeves. It was obvious that the kid thought that the other was a joke and nothing that he said was to be listened to. The boy turned his back on the other, quickly dismissing the man, as his mind ran through places he could go to for the night... a _drunk driver_ did crash into his home after all.

The detective understood the boy's mistrust and blatant disrespect. He was so young and already he's come to the understanding that it was him against the world. It reminded the detective so much of his own past.

"Are you Ken Amada," the blonde said as he took a seat on the other side of the still standing boy, "I'm Detective Uzumaki."

"I already gave my statement," the boy said coldly with his back still turned.

"I know."

"So you heard," the boy snorted as he finally turned around and took a seat across from the other, "Did you come to laugh too?"

"No. I don't find anything about this situation to be funny."

The detective's face was serious, almost solemn. Ken didn't think a man with such sunny hair and such bright eyes would be able to make such a face. He didn't even think that the expression belonged on such a person. His lips were in a thin line, his chiseled jaw was set and his broad shoulders were slumped. He would have looked defeated if it weren't for the silent determination burning in his eyes.

"What do you know," the boy snapped, "My mother is dead! She was killed! A monster-"

"No," Uzumaki said in a stern voice.

"No," Ken screamed as long awaited tears of frustration finally fell down his cheeks, "I know what I saw, damn it! I'm not wrong! I'm... I'm not wrong."

The detective silently watched as the boy wept. He screams were now sobs as his hands covered his tear-streaked face, hiding his grief from the world. The boy was proud and strong, bold and intelligent, but he was still a boy. Even if he wasn't, losing a mother at any age was painful. Uzumaki would know.

"You're right," the detective said as the boys sobs slowed to a halt, "But there's a little misunderstanding."

The boy defiantly wiped his tears from his face, almost as if he was erasing a past folly, as he lifted his head in curiosity and confusion. "A misunderstanding?"

"Yeah," the detective nodded, "It's not a monster."

"Not a monster?"

"A Persona."

"Per-so-na?" The boy tested the word on his lips, feeling it as it came from his tongue. It was not a monster that killed his mother, but a Persona, "It looked like a beast, I've never seen anything like it."

"I don't think you would've."

"A-are they even from this world," the boy asked tentatively. He almost didn't want the other to answer. The last thing he wanted to hear was that aliens were involved.

"Personas?" The boy nodded. "I suppose," the detective answered, "They're the manifestation of our hearts and personality traits. That's what my father told me when I awakened mine."

"Awaken yours? You have one too," Ken instantly jumped from his seat, defensive one again. How could this be? The one person that believed him, the only person that could help him, was just like the bastard that killed his mother. He should have handled this himself, "You have one of those Persona things, too?!"

The detective was so lost in own thoughts that he didn't even notice what he said. He reached for the child, trying to get him to sit again. Why did he have to open his big mouth? "Calm down," he said, "I had one, yes, but as I got older it started to fade away. Now it's gone."

"Gone?" Ken saw the small flicker of pain that flashed across the other's face, "You seem to miss it."

"Personas are like everything else that's been given to human beings. You have some that use them for good, some that use them for evil and many in between. Just because someone has a Persona, doesn't mean that they're evil."

"I see," Ken said as he sat back down, "It's like a weapon."

"It can be."

The detective watched as the child thought of his words. Ken's eyes were cold and calculating. He was thinking of something that the young detective hoped to stray him away from. He was thinking of revenge. Uzumaki didn't want the boy to follow this route but he knew the burning hatred the boy felt and how impossible it was to douse those flames.

The boy's burning brown eyes snapped Uzumaki from his thoughts. "How," he asked, "How do I get one?"

"A Persona?"

"Yes," the boy answered. He was anxious and brimming with enthusiastical hatred. He now had an opportunity when the young Ken thought there were none. He could now avenge his mother and his pain would not just be his alone. The thought of gaining the power to bring about the other boy's death gave Ken hope and the boy was going to do everything in his power to hold on to it. Uzumaki knew better though. Death and power together never brought hope, just destruction.

"Gaining a Persona isn't going to solve anything."

"What do you mean," Ken asked with angry disbelief, "Obtaining a Persona is the only way I can bring justice to the man that killed my mother! You _are_ a police officer, right! It's suppose to be your job to serve justice to those who deserve it! How can you not help me? My mother dies and you won't even help me catch the person that did it? Where's the justice in that?"

"Justice, look brat, there's no justice in killing! You kill him and he's just as dead as your mother. It won't prove anything and it definitely won't bring anybody back!" The police officer was standing now, his chair screening loudly as he jumped up from it. His hands were face-down on the desk. Each palm were a burning red, protesting to the pain the detective caused by slamming them in his rage. Who was this child? Who was he to question him? He spends every day of his life chasing 'justice'. He learned that 'justice' didn't bring peace. He learned that retribution just brought about another's pain. In the end he couldn't stop the hatred or the hurt. Justice just seemed like another ideal that lost itself in reality.

In the mist of his rage he saw the hopelessness return to the boy's eyes. He saw the pain that his comment caused and soon after he saw all that hurt transform into rage. "I don't care," the boy said, "I understand that killing him won't bring my mother back. That isn't going to stop me! It's not fair that he can live when my mother cannot. It's not just!"

"And killing him is," the blonde questioned, "You'll be no better than him."

"It's a fair consequence to a task that needs to be done."

"Look!"

"Either you're going to help me or not. It doesn't matter. If you don't tell me how to get a Persona, I'll find out on my own."

Uzumaki sighed as he tiredly ran a hand down his face. If he wasn't a kid, the detective was pretty sure he would've knocked the other in his teeth by now. "How do you plan on doing that, huh?"

"I'll find a way."

The blonde smiled at the child. He reminded him so much of his child self. He was just as stubborn and he was just as hard-headed. Even the child's deep since of justice is the same as his was. He knew this child was going to do just as he said he was. He knew because if he was in the same situation as a child, Uzumaki would mimic Ken exactly. "I see I can't stop you, but I'm not going to help you either."

"What?"

"Shut up and let me finish," Uzumaki commanded, "I'll tell you all I know about Personas and the Dark Hour they live in."

"But I thought you didn't want me to kill him."

"I don't," the young man said, "But like I said earlier, Personas are what you make of them. How you use yours is up to you."

"Up to me?"

"Yes. Do what you believe in your heart to be right," the detective paused to look into the eyes of the vulnerable child across from him, "You remind me so much of me when I was a kid so I know that you'll make the right choice."

The boy stayed silent. He knew what he would do with the information given to him. He was going to kill the man who killed his mother. He was going to avenge her and he was going to prove to this man that his actions were the right ones. He was going to prove to the man that what he was doing was just.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

They both spent the rest of the night in the detective's office. The blonde paced the room as he told the other of the Persona's existence and of the hour that nestled between the deep of night and the breaking of the day. He told the boy of the shadows that lived there and the way to use Personas to protect himself from them. He told of how the world shifts and the horrid transmogrification of human begins into coffins. He told the boy all he could and the boy listened. Ken sat at the end of his seat. He nodded eagerly as the man dished out the information that he so desperately needed. He didn't shift and could not tear his eyes away. This was what he needed to level the playing field. With the information that the other gave to him he could avenge his mother. He could serve swift justice. He could make the pain and burning in his chest go away.

Uzumaki finished his speech and Ken could see the drain in his eyes. The story must have been a hard one for the other to tell. "How do you know all of this," Ken finally asked.

"My father studied Personas and I was his number one test subject."

"What?"

"Yeah," Uzumaki said. That was all he said. His voice was laced with the nostalgic tone of past regrets and an elusiveness that clearly showed that he wasn't going to speak any more on the subject.

"Ya know," the detective continued, "I've been in that chair before. I sat there twice. First when my mother was mauled by a Shadow during the Dark Hour and again when my father died because of an accident. I know what it's like to have no one believe you. I know of the loneliness you must feel. Don't let it cloud your judgment. Don't let the pain and anger cloud your sense of justice. In a world like this, it could be the only thing to keep you sane and keep you going."

Ken looked at the man for a moment and felt he saw something that he didn't have a right to see. Then he realized what he saw. Ken saw the same loneliness and hopelessness he felt reflected in Uzumaki's eyes. "Did you do it," Ken asked, "Did you kill?"

Uzumaki smiled a tired smile, thoroughly impressed by the boy's skills in observation and reading people. The smile faded as he answered the question, though. "The first time I decided to kill with my Persona," the detective started, "It was to kill the Shadow that killed my mother. I have to admit; it felt good. Then I had to kill others. I killed as my father took notes. First shadows, then animals... and then more. I did that for a long time. Killing, it causes you to lose a bit of yourself each time you do it. Just keep that in mind."

The young Ken sat quietly for a long time as he thought of the man before him and the things he must have went through. Afterwards, he imagined himself in his shoes. Would he be able to carry the same burden as the man before him? Would he be able to carry the heavy burden of a murder that no one could see? He also wondered that if he could, would he end up like Uzumaki – Uzumaki, the young detective, whose entire life revolves around searching for and maintaining justice, when justice was the very thing he didn't believe in anymore. Then he thought of the blind trust the other had in him. Maybe, Ken thought, he was the man's last hope at finding justice's true meaning and believing in right in wrong again.

Ken looked up at the man as he started to take his leave, "You don't have to worry." The detective stopped with his hand on the doorknob to his office. "I'm making the right choice. You might not think it's right now, but I'll show you. I'll show you that justice does still exist."

"I never said it didn't," Uzumaki returned, "I am detective after all." He then smiled and that gesture made Ken think back to when he first saw the man. He was right. The detective's face was made for smiling. Ken hoped he did it often. His smile had the power to lift other's spirits. "I know it exist, but I don't know how to get it."

"Then I'll tell you," Ken said, "When I finish what I have to do, I'll tell you."

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

2 years later...

Uzumaki stepped into his office, bowl of ramen hot in his hand and a stack of unfinished paperwork on his desk. "Sasuke," he bellowed, "Come do my paperwork for me!"

The other detective stood at the blonde's door frame unimpressed, "Naruto, I can't believe that they're thinking of promoting you."

"Only if I beat out you, though," Uzumaki smiled. He found it easier to do now-a-days.

"Hn," the other smirked, "I doubt you can do that, Dobe."

"Wanna say that to my face, Teme?"

"Uzumaki-san?"

The blonde turned to the sound of his name, "Yes?"

"A message, Sir," the obvious rookie said before handing the paper over and scampering away.

"Forgiveness," the blonde's friend questioned as he read over the other's shoulder.

"I thought so," Uzumaki smiled to himself, "But I was never completely sure. However, I knew that you would make the right choice, Ken. The true path to justice is forgiveness."

"Funny," Sasuke said overhearing Uzumaki, "I had to tell the same thing to a kid in a beanie some time ago at Port Island Station."

"Really," Naruto said as he took up his ramen once again, "Maybe we cops really can still do something about this whole justice thing."

"I really hope so."

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**AN: **Hoped you enjoyed and leave a review if you did or have any suggestions. A sequel with Sasuke's story is next.


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